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Posts Tagged ‘Chickens’

Domestic dispute leads to murder

From Staff Reports

A apparent domestic dispute led to murder in Effingham County Monday afternoon. Trish La Gallina, 1, was reportedly killed by her sister, Maggie The Dog, 8, after an altercation in the family’s back yard. Their father, Eddie C., found Trish’s broken body Tuesday morning.

“I looked out the back door and thought, ‘Oh shit! Those are chicken legs!'” he said. “I was like, ‘Oh no. I really don’t want to tell [their mother].'”

Warning: Graphic images

 

The pair’s mother, Beth C., appeared to be in a state of shock, and refused numerous interview requests.

This is not the first incident between Maggie and Trish. Eddie C. reported that Trish was the lone survivor of an attack by Maggie one year ago. That attack resulted in the deaths of three other poultry siblings. Maggie was convicted of those murders, and was sentenced to life in the detention facility of the gated back yard or inside the house. She also was ordered to stay at least 10 feet from Trish for the rest of her life.

Maggie apparently disregarded that restraining order when the side gate was left open by Eddie himself.

“I was working on the back door, and was going back and forth to the garage,” he said. “I didn’t know I had left it open. I felt horrible because I realized it was my fault.”

Murder suspect: Maggie The Dog

Unwitting accomplice: Eddie C.

Maggie was arrested Tuesday morning and charged with first-degree murder. Her brother, attorney Vince The Dog, said that Maggie will enter a plea of temporary insanity.

“Trish kept taunting her, clucking in that way of hers,” he said. “When Maggie saw that the gate was open, she just couldn’t help herself.”

Eddie said that his wife wants to adopt more chickens, but that it is too soon to make any concrete plans.

“There’s not going to be another chicken that smart,” he said.

A funeral service will be held at the family’s house March 3.

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We interrupt the Beth and Eddie story with a brief word from our chicken.

Trish has not made an appearance in a while, either on this blog or in real life. It’s been too darn cold, and she has been holed up in her coop. I wanted to make sure she was OK, so I went out bearing a seed treat for her. She charged out of her coop and flew up onto my arm like some kind of parrot.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled blogging. Part III will appear tomorrow.

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Not only does Reggie not care that Trish has been hanging out with him on the front porch, but he lets her eat his food. This was the scene this morning:

Don't eat that!

However, that cat food is probably made of … chicken. Gross.

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I’m supposed to be working on my dissertation proposal (oh that old thing), but I don’t want to neglect my blog and leave my faithful readers hanging. That’s assuming I have any, of course.

So here is a Trish anecdote for purposes of amusement (and stalling).

I was in the kitchen yesterday when I heard a knock at the front door. I thought it was weird because we have a functioning doorbell. This is what I saw when I walked around the corner:

"Anyone home?"

"I said, is anyone home?"

Apparently, this was not the first time she has come calling. Eddie said she banged on the door Friday too, and the boys cracked up.

I wonder what she would do if I let her inside. Besides poop, that is. And I certainly don’t want THAT in here.

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While I enjoyed teaching each of my four classes this quarter, the one that affected me the most on a personal basis was Persuasive Writing. In the final persuasive research papers, the graduate students — all  writers of promise — encouraged me to stop watching “Hoarders,” camp in national parks, support art funding in schools, lobby for a three-point harness on airplanes, write my representatives in support of the Alzheimer’s Breakthrough Act of 2009, join the bone marrow registry, and go vegan.

One affected me so much that I’m doing research today. Can you guess which one?

Here’s a hint: Think about my blog.

Yes, I’m considering veganism. Or at least a more cruelty-free lifestyle.

All of the papers were persuasive, but only one made me consider each bite of food, every meal I prepare, and all my grocery-shopping trips. I don’t really object to eating meat in general, but I have always objected to the American meat industry and the horrible way animals “live” and die on factory farms. I don’t eat beef in America, in fact, for this reason.

This morning, I eyed the Thanksgiving turkey in the freezer and felt sad and guilty. I fed Trish and thought of the cellophaned breasts in the refrigerator. I threaded Dominic’s belt through the loops on his pants and thought of milking Rosebud in the second grade.

And now I’m wondering if this Web site is on the up and up.

Thanks, Austin Floyd.

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Trish

Trish, a wet hen

The phrase “madder than a wet hen” came to mind today. It’s been a monsoon in the ‘Ham for the past two days, thanks to Ida. During a break in the clouds, I went to feed Trish. She came around the corner from the neighbor’s house, and she was soaking wet. She didn’t appear particularly angry about it though.

I’m sure that phrase originated in the south, but I wish I knew how and where. Wikianswers, which I don’t trust, of course, reports that it originated in the Southern Appalachian Mountains. Someday I want to have time to study etymology. Someday. In the meantime, I’ll find time to peruse the Online Etymology Dictionary.

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Reggie is our porch cat. He does not come inside. His choice, not ours. He adopted me when I lived in Jacksonville, and he is just an incredibly loving, laid-back cat. This nature even extends to accepting all visitors, even including one Rhode Island Red. Reggie can’t be bothered. Don’t believe me? Take a look:

Trish and Reggie

Trish trots over for a visit.

Reggie and Trish

Reggie is unconcerned.

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Last year was my year to channel Martha Stewart and create costumes for the kids. Behold Lightning McQueen and Mater:
Lightning McQueen and Mater

Lightning McQueen (Gideon) and Mater (Dominic)

This year it is Eddie’s turn. He’s been outside making the Batmobile all day. While the boys were testing it out, Trish got in on the act. Behold the Bat-hen:

Quick, Trish! To the Batmobile!

Quick, Trish! To the Batmobile!

Dominic must have thought all the Bat-tivity made her tired. He tried to rock her to sleep.

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As you know, the wing-clipping didn’t work; Trish leaves her yard every day and roams the neighborhood. We’ve become “those people.” But I wonder which is worse: a huge, burning pile of refuse (thanks, Wayne) or a chicken with a sense of adventure.

Dominic is as interested in her poop as I am, it appears. He informed me this morning that he noticed some on the driveway where she has been moseying around. He asked me when I was going to clean it up.

Here is an image of Trish roosting in the crape myrtle at sunset. I’d like to see Thomas Kinkade tackle this.

Trish in her tree

Trish in her tree

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I don’t usually consider the poop of others, unless one of my sons is telling me about his, or one of the dogs has to go out. However, I was forced to consider Trish the chicken and her system when I saw this:

The frightening thing is that I almost slipped in it. Yes, I would have posted a photo of that. I have no shame.

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